The Boy Who Lived Again
by Healer Pomfrey
Summary: A sick six-year-old Harry thought 'I'm a freak, but I don’t mind, because it helps me feel better, even if I’m a nuisance and your death' and released dark accidental magic after a beating from Vernon. AU, OOC, rating because of abuse/char.death!Dursleys


**The Boy who Lived Again**

Six-year-old Harry was sitting on the edge of his mattress in his cupboard, quietly moving his hands over his arms to soothe the ache the new bruises caused as he reflected the day.

_(Flashback)_

When he woke up that morning, he knew immediately that he was ill. His throat was sore, his head was throbbing, and he was feeling hot and cold at the same time. He tried as best as he could to hide his predicament from his relatives, knowing that Petunia didn't want to be bothered, and also from his school teacher. However, the teacher noticed soon what was wrong and brought him to the hospital room, where the nurse made him lie on a bed that was most comfortable in comparison to his small cot in the cupboard.

"Let's see what's wrong," the nurse said gently. "If you're running a fever, which you probably are, I have to call someone to pick you up. Now open up and keep this under your tongue." She carefully slid a thermometer into his mouth, causing Harry to panic.

'She'll _call Aunt Petunia, and she'll be so angry. Uncle Vernon will give me the belt again_,' he thought horrified, and all of a sudden, the thermometer removed itself from his mouth, dashed through the air, only to shatter in thousands of pieces as it crashed into the opposite wall.

The nurse glared at him and scolded him, but the words were not able to penetrate his foggy mind. She fetched another thermometer and ordered Harry to turn onto his stomach. Before he could even properly register what had happened and realise what the nurse was going to do, he could feel her pull down his pants and stick something cold into his bum. Terrified, Harry began to panic even more. Shivering violently, he began to spill hot tears, noticing that his body heated up even more. With another bout of accidental magic, the thermometer met the same fate as the other one.

"You are very naughty," the nurse said sternly, "even if I have no idea how you managed to do what you did. I hope that your high fever is responsible for your actions. Stay put; I'm going to phone your aunt."

Harry only listened half-heartedly as the nurse talked to an apparently enraged Petunia, explaining what had happened and that he was probably running a high fever and needed to see a doctor.

Several hours later, Aunt Petunia finally arrived and walked Harry home, arriving just at the same time as Uncle Vernon, who dealt with Harry right in the entrance hall. "You worthless freak," he spat at Harry, "you're a nuisance, doing freakish things at school and getting us blamed for it. I hope you're going to meet a similar fate as your freaks of parents; otherwise you'll be my death, you ungrateful brat." With each sentence he beat Harry's backside with his belt before he shoved him into the cupboard, even forgetting to shut the door in his rage.

_(E__nd of flashback)_

Harry refused to cry in spite of feeling hurt, sick and just absolutely miserable. '_I am a freak_, _but I don't mind, because it helps me feel better, even if I'm a nuisance and your death_,' he mused. Shivering violently in spite of the heat he felt, he drifted off to delirious dreams, which caused him to perform a devastated act of accidental, dark magic. Through the open door of his cupboard, he peered into the kitchen, noting how the wave of freakishness that had just erupted from his burning body hit the table and set it on fire. The flames spread quickly all over the room and through the whole house. Even the small cupboard was engulfed with flames as the small boy let out another distraught bout of accidental magic when he heard the cries of his relatives on the second floor.

An hour later, Fawkes appeared over the remains of the house, pulling a tiny baby phoenix out of the ashes. He brought it to Hogwarts and presented it to the Headmaster, trilling, #It's _The boy who lived again_, Albus. I strongly suggest to raise him at Hogwarts this time.#

**The End**

_Oh well, my muse is probably going nuts. Don't blame her, it might be the heat ;-)_

_I'm not a native speaker of English. Please excuse my mistakes or help me to correct them._

_All recognizable characters belong to J. K. Rowling, and I am not earning anything by writing this story._


End file.
